Kid Amnesiac

Last night I had a dream that was so disturbing that after I had it, I went back to sleep and dreamed about talking it over with others to find out what it meant. Very meta.

The dream came sometime after Simon’s 4:30 a.m. feeding. (I think he’s having a small growth spurt and so is feeding often these days.) Matt and I lived in our current house, only it was located back in our old San Francisco neighborhood. We were getting ready to move and were in the house packing up our last things. It was to be our final night sleeping in the house.

I put Simon alone in the middle of a double bed in our guest bedroom. Then I shut the door behind me and went on to finishing packing. I was clearly trying to get Simon out of the way–great parenting! After a few hours, I heard crying and went to check on him.

And there they were. About six or seven little Simons sitting up on the bed. Two had different hair than Simon does, but about five babies were identical to him in every way. Dream Jessica had no idea if they were clones or hallucinations. But whatever they were, they all seemed equally real, and they scared the bejeezus out of me. Worst of all, I had no idea which baby was my actual son.

Finally, one of the Simons cried louder than the others and tried to crawl over the heap of other babies to get to me. I decided he must be the real one, picked him up, and left the room. A while later, I returned to see if the other Simons were still around and was relieved to discover they had vanished. Relieved not only because the extra babies disturbed me, but also because their disappearance confirmed that I was holding the right one.

Several hours later, I had my second dream. In this dream I had friends over for brunch and asked them to interpret the dream for me. And wouldn’t you know it, they started to answer me just as I woke up.

All very strange and unsettling. By Simon’s 10:30 feeding I could make a joke out of it. He started to cry and I told him if he didn’t perk up I’d trade him in for one of the extra Simons in the room across the hall!

About four weeks ago, Simon had two fussy days. He cried a fair bit and wanted to nurse all the time. It was textbook growth spurt behavior, and it didn’t shake me. I figured at the time it would last a day or two, and then I’d get my sunnier guy back for a week before tacking my next fussy day.

Then something unexpected happened. He didn’t have another fussy day. Fussy moments? Sure. Fussy nights? A couple. But all-out dawn-to-dusk hissy fits? Not a one. I started counting my good days. Then, before I knew it, I was counting my good weeks. Now I realize that Simon’s last bad day was four weeks ago today.

Wow. What an absolute amazing difference a month makes. I used to be on edge when Simon was awake, because I knew he might flip out at any moment. I rarely made it to the end of a book. Tummy-time was a literal flop. A stretch of good days was regularly punctuated by a bad one.

These days, Simon loves Bear Snores On, he likes just hanging out in bed with me and Matt at night and in the early morning, he enjoys his firefly toy, and he even supported himself during tummy-time a few days ago. He laughs a lot. He smiles like mad. I love playing with him, and I’m rarely on edge. If he gets crabby, I can almost always fix things by feeding him, holding him, changing him, or getting him down for a nap.

The only down-side to Sunny Simon is that I was just getting good at my five S’s when he stopped needing them. When Simon was hysterical, I could Swaddle him, lay him on his Side, Shush him, give him a pacifier to Suck, and Swing him from side to side at the same time.

Now I have something in common with Java programmers, desktop publishers, and steel workers: I possess a highly specialized skill for which there is no local demand. I’ve been made redundant in my own home. Anyone have a hysterical newborn I can calm down?

Simon has been a much easier baby lately, but for the first time since the height of his colicky behavior, I am feeling run-down and stressed.

I’ve been tired all week, and I’m pretty sore, too. The fatigue is easy enough to explain. Since January 2, when I returned to work, almost every waking moment has been spent taking care of Simon, working, or keeping the house in order. And this last bit is a joke, because my house is currently a pigsty.

Items one and two are demanding, and the messy house tips the scales to unworkable. Most days, Matt takes over for an hour of so every night so I can read, soak in a hot bath, or otherwise get some R&R. He also works from home so I can frequently get a mini-break in the day to grab a bite to eat or run a load of laundry downstairs. And my mom and mother-in-law combine to offer me about seven hours of child-care per week. When I write it down like this, I know I have a pretty good deal. Lots of people do more with less support. Alas, I am not one of those people. Nope, I feel worn down and live in a dirty house.

And then there is the sore part. Two weeks ago, I hurt my right shoulder struggling with the carseat at my mom’s house. (I go to her place when Matt’s band practices once a week to keep Simon away from the noise.) It didn’t hurt much at the time, but I awoke in the middle of night with searing pain and difficulty breathing. Things had just gotten better when it came time to clear out again for last Sunday’s band practice, and I reinjured the same muscle. It’s been two weeks now since I can lift Simon or even sneeze without some pain. To make matters worse, Simon got so fussy at Mom’s last week that I couldn’t get him to calm down and had to come home early.

So there it is: I’m tired, I’m in pain, and my house is dirty. Any of these items on their own is manageable, but taken together I’m done in.

Something has to give–and it has to give fast. Because I do not want to wake up one morning and realize that I am too burnt out to take good care of Simon. That would defeat every decision I’ve made about life and work for the past year.

So I’ve decided that even though my current load should be managable, I’m calling in reinforcements. To begin with, I’m no longer leaving the house every time the band practices. They are simply going to have practice at a baby-safe volume or find somewhere else to go. This will not only take the pressure off my body, it will also give me back 4 or so hours each weekend to tidy around the house and take care of Simon in his usual surroundings.

Secondly, and most exciting for me, I’m hiring a cleaning service. I just read about several companies online, and when they described what all they do I got positively giddy. I think about having dusted kitchen cabinets, wiped down appliances, and regularly cleaned baseboards and feel more relaxed already. I know that taking care of Simon and working as a half-time editor will all feel more manageable and enjoyable if I can do so in clean surroundings. Working and living amongst clutter and dirt puts me on edge.

My calls are in for cleaning estimates. The band has its first quiet practice today. With a little luck, continued help from the moms, and the regular application of heat, ice, and Advil, I’m hoping to be back to my old high-energy self in a week or so. Stay tuned…